


Of Direwolves & Thunder

by iraot



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, F/M, Minor Angst, Size Kink, Virginity Loss, age gap, minor virginal terror, sansa is 5'7", sub/dom themes, thor is 6'6"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iraot/pseuds/iraot
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark (background), Myrcella Baratheon/Robb Stark (Mentioned), Odin/Frigga (background), Sansa Stark/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 54





	1. Intro

This wouldn't be the first hard decision Eddard Stark had ever made as a father, nor as a leader. Sansa had been old enough to take a husband for sometime now, even if he dreaded the idea of her leaving home. Though he knew she didn't take kindly to him making these kinds of decisions; a decision must be had, whether she liked the outcome or not. The coming winter would not be kind to them, and he would be a fool to think he could avoid this forever, the soils were hard and didn't nurture the growth of food like they ought to - but there was a solution. Asgard was laced with old magic, he'd seen it first hand himself when he was just younger than his son. 

Looking at the missive in his hands he sighed, ornate, decorated; House Mjölnir was known for the intricacies, he knew his eldest daughter would be well taken care of while doing her duty to the Stark name, to the North. Strengthening bonds with their most loyal vassal was an important task, one his younger sons would likely carry out as well. With Robb's betrothal to Myrcella Baratheon binding him and his good friend Robert in blood – there was the matter of his daughters. He'd outright turned down a betrothal of Joffrey and Sansa, he'd met the boy; he wasn't the least bit impressed. 

Robert had agreed, there was a lack of maturity between the two of them – constant bickering that wouldn't suit a marriage well. He had no doubts in his mind now, her marrying into the North was the only way she might find true happiness. Lord Odin had been a mentor of his – he'd married late in life, having children much later than most Lords in the North. The cold was not kind to them, with it bred illness and disease, but the man even in his graying age refused to die. Lord Odin's son, Thor, had decided he was ready to take a wife. What better wife to take than that of the Warden of the North?

There was a knock on the door forcing him to look away from the letter in his hands, “come in.” he allowed, knowing just who to expect. When the door opened he saw the auburn hair that matched that of his wife's, it was something of magic that three of his children took after her instead of favoring the North that ran so deeply in his own veins. She looked meek, like she was expecting what he was going to say – her fingers twisted the cotton handkerchief anxiously. Eddard felt a hint of remorse, he'd seen how his sister had reacted to her own betrothal. It had been nothing short of wolfish behavior, his father had expected nothing less – though, she'd been a tad younger than Sansa. Eddard had felt it pertinent to allow her to grow into her own a bit more than most, he found she was more beautiful, more prepared for the trials of womanhood that awaited her.

“Come sit, Sansa.” Motioning to the chair before his desk, his solar decorated throughout the years he'd had it. Before it'd been naught but an empty room, but now it held everything he needed including memories – like this one – that he would cherish for many years. When she took a seat in the chair he sighed. 

“The time has come, I've chosen a husband for you.

Her breath caught in her throat, “Who?” he remembered when he was told he would have to marry his brother's intended. After Brandon had been killed in Kings Landing it had taken a toll on him, marrying Catelyn had been a duty then. Nevertheless, their love grew over time, after the birth of their first born, Robb, he knew things would be better. 

“Thor of House Mjölnir.” 

Her eyes went wide, the tales people told of him were aplenty. He'd heard them himself, but he had been assured by his mother that most of them were false; though he was far from perfect. “He is … quite a bit older than I am...” she breathed then looked down at her hands, “Must I?”

“You must,” Eddard insisted, “they're a vassal to our house. It would strengthen our alliances and bring many other things to Winterfell that could assist the North. They're gifting us plenty of soil from their own plots in Asgard – as well as a highly skilled trainer to help prepare our own soldiers if there is any need.” 

Sansa took a deep breath, he knew the decision was one she had been wanting to avoid; but she was a woman grown; and she needed to form a family of her own. “May I make a request?” her eyes looked back at him, the same ones that he saw in the mirror every morning. There was North in her, he knew. He'd always known, so he nodded. 

“I wish to marry in the Godswood, here in Winterfell. I would also like to not participate in the bedding ceremony.” Her cheeks flushed and she avoided his gaze, he was happy she had brought this to his attention. Since she was young she'd attended several weddings. The bedding ceremony was a bit archaic, though traditional. He would never force such on her though as it wasn't necessary, mostly just a jest brought on by the original King in the North, to be dragged from your seat and undressed by men you didn't know – he imagined it was terrifying for a maiden. 

Eddard nodded his head in consent, “I will make it so. They will be here within a fortnight, your mother has already begun sewing your maiden's cloak and dress – you should join her.” he proposed as he held the letter in his hands. He didn't know where time had gone, his little girl had grown into a woman before his very eyes. So skilled in her grace that had been cultivated by her mother, the woman he held so dear in his own life. His only hope was that Thor would treat her with the kindness that was promised to him, the world was far too cruel and uncertain for him to let his oldest daughter into the hands of a brute.


	2. One

Sansa dreaded the day it came, two weeks of stitching nonstop. There had been a time when she’d thought herself to never tire of her needle work, it kept her constant mind racing but now it’d set her forward on journey as a woman. She’d even given a piece for Arya to work on; it seemed like she was actually trying even if she wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect of her sister leaving. Her wedding dress was finished almost at the last minute, they were due to arrive at some point during the day. 

Her mother fussed over her hair and Sansa felt as if she might lose her breakfast – the meager buttered toast and warm tea. Taking a few calming breaths she watched as her mother let her tamed waves flow over her back while parts of her hair were designed in the Northern fashion. Her dress was black and grey, lined with soft wool to keep her warm. Her corset was decorated with fur and leather, and a belt at her waist kept everything snug and in place. 

Draping her cloak over her shoulders as her mother dabbed a bit of rose tinted balm to her lips, “Is this necessary?” 

Her mother tsk’d, “of course it is, your lips are a bit dry, make sure you drink more water. Adding some color into your face wouldn’t go amiss either.” she pinked her cheeks making Sansa cry out in shock and indignation.

“What was that for?!”

Catelyn looked at her daughter then gave a quirk of her lips, "I remember the day I met your father, it was the day I met his brother.” Sansa snorted indelicately as her mother continued, “I was nervous, and angry when I couldn’t marry Brandon. Things changed though, you’ll see it’s different once they’re yours.” she explained to her with a sigh, “he’ll be good to you, I knew his mother – she is very kind and it’s often been told that he takes after her.”

Sansa had been told much the same, but it didn’t ease her nerves. Not one bit, there were other rumors about him and his ferocity on the battlefield. He was close to her father’s age, or somewhere in there she’d been told. He had fought in the rebellion beside his own father for the murder of her Uncle and Grandfather. The sound of horns forced her eyes to jolt to the nearby window, pulling her from her rampant thoughts. The House Mjölnir flag was flying high over the hill signaling their arrival. Sansa choked on her breath then closed her eyes tightly, she wasn’t ready – she couldn’t do this.

“Breathe, you’re going to be alright. You’re not the first bride to be nervous to meet her betrothed, you won’t be the last.” Her mother stroked her cheek affectionately, “when you have daughters some day -”

“I won’t marry them off, I’ll let them choose.” Sansa declared soberly, this fear was not something she ever wanted her children to feel. Class aside – she wanted them to feel comfortable, safe and have a level of knowledge about their intended. This.. this wasn’t right, used for the betterment of her house. She refused to allow her daughters to feel such a deep rooted fear, a fear they couldn’t escape if their worst imaginations came true. Her mother’s eyes bore into her for a moment before she smoothed her skirts. 

“Come, we won’t keep them waiting.” the conversation was over, and she didn’t feel sorry. She’d stopped feeling sorry for expressing herself a long time ago. When she knew her life wasn’t in her hands regardless of what she said. There was nothing further that could be taken from her if she continued to use them to benefit her. She’d never be a silent wife, a participant in the chains that had kept women silent for far too long while men tended to the important things. When her shoes were laced tightly, she swept from the room making her way to the courtyard.

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Standing beside her father, normally this was Robb’s position but this guest was here for her, not anyone else. There had been minor protest from her brother, she couldn’t help but snort - he’d be meeting his betrothed in the next few months in White Harbor. Then, she wouldn’t see him till his wedding, given she wasn’t expecting at the time - she hoped she wasn’t. The Mjölnir sigil was an intricately designed hammer, covered in runes with a bolt of lightning weaved around it; she’d find it beautiful if for the fact that it was intimidating. The direwolf had been her family sigil, and it always would be even if the realm didn’t consider her a Stark any longer. 

The carriage stopped, in it held Lord Mjölnir and his wife, riding on horseback behind them were their sons. Thor and Loki - she’d never seen either of them before in her life but she didn’t dare look longer than she had to. 

Poise and grace. 

She wore a faux shield of confidence, one she’d been taught by her Septa. 

Her father was the first to speak, “Lord Mjölnir, we’re happy to welcome you to our home. ” his tone was even and kind - she didn’t know how he did it. They shook hands and hugged, just like he did with everyone. The men who had been by his side as he fought in the rebellion of the mad king. 

“We’re happy to be here, Lord Stark. It is only fitting it’s to join our families - is it not?” The man chuckled roughly, he was definitely older. She was surprised he still seemed to be so spry and lively, but when his eyes moved to her she felt her heart rate quicken. “This must be her then, she’s lovely.” he smiled kindly then took her hand in his hand. 

“Lady Sansa, it is indeed an honor to finally meet you.” Lord Mjölnir spoke to her, his wife moving to his side after having greeted her mother and father. 

Sansa offered a small smile, “It’s is an honor that is all mine, Lord Mjölnir.” she replied in kind. Though, she was sure she was going to lose her meal if this continued on too much longer, but she felt her mind was rushing too soon. 

“Thor, dear.” His mother called to him, her heart rate tripled - she certainly hoped she wasn’t sick on him; that’d be an introduction of the worst sort. At least she’d man an impression. His figure blocked out the sun as he approached, far taller than any other man she’d met in the north - he had to be as tall as the Hound at least. Odin moved aside to allow Thor the space to greet his intended, everyone seemed all too eager to see the pair of them interact. She could see his brother peeking around their mother to get a look at her but her eyes were pulled to his.

He grabbed her hand in his larger one then pressed his lips to the back of it, “Lady Sansa, I am honored to be within your presence.” He was a large man, he towered over her lithe frame and he brought a sense of comfort along with it. Thor was a warrior, everyone knew it. He’d handled skirmishes alongside her brother, and had kept Asgard safe when his father’s age restricted him from doing so. 

“As am I in yours, Lord Thor." 

Practiced words. 

Recited, over and over, never had she anticipated nerves of this measure. 

She was sure she stumbled over her words, tripped over them like she’d once tripped up the stairs to the tower where her room was held - oh, a mess he must think of her - she was sure. Though the small glint in his eyes as he released her hand from his own startled her; mischievousness, like the kind she’d found in her sister’s when she’d done something really shouldn’t have or when Robb was making a joke that their mother would box his ears for. She hadn’t expected to find lay there. 

He stood back to his full height, though only a matter of seconds had passed it felt like minutes. Her grey eyes broke from his cerulean ones, as he turned to greet her father with the respect he was due. Sansa’s eyes cast down to the ground as she caught her breath; she hadn’t even realized it was missing. A gentle hand grasped her own and when she lifted her eyes Lady Mjölnir gave her a reassuring smile. 

"You did lovely, dear.” the words were soft but reassuring, maybe she hadn’t made a complete mess of things. Once she was so sure she could speak her mind, but just meeting her intended had left her a puddle of unspoken words and flushed from head to toe. “Come, I wish to get to know the woman who is to be my good daughter,” she spoke freely as she saw the men walk away leaving everyone scrambling, “your father said you insisted on being married here - it is quite lovely, but I have a feeling there is more of a sentiment behind it?”

Sansa walked with her arm linked in the older woman’s, “It is tradition, Lady Mjölnir. Every Stark of Winterfell has been married under the Godswood since before Aegon the Conqueror.” The stories had enthralled her as a child, but the sparkling blue eyes still tinged her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he thought of her too.

“That is quite the tradition then, isn’t it? Thor was all too pleased to agree, he’d always wanted to see Winterfell but never had reason enough to go.” She chuckled a little as they walked towards the acreage that the Godswood was hidden within. “He’ll be quite beside himself when he sees this, I’ve never quite seen him so excited. When he told us he was ready to take a wife.. I never thought I’d see the day." 

Sansa swallowed then took a deep breath, "I’m a bit older than most girls who marry, Lady Mjölnir. Does that not bother him?”

Frigga shook her head, “He was relieved, honestly. He is getting closer to his thirty fifth name day, and a very young wife wouldn’t suit him.” The words settled between them and Sansa carefully regarded them. Though, she was quite happy that this wasn’t an issue; she wondered why. 

“You’re a woman grown, you’re studied and have a better understanding of what the future holds” She stopped walking then took her hands within her own, “House Mjölnir has never married into another unless the bride was a bit older - some even older than yourself, it’s a tradition of sorts.” Frigga explained easily, “ The men are always tall, and make for big babes. Thor himself weighed a bit under a full stone.”

Sansa eyes widened, Rickon had weighed half a stone and her mother said it had been a tiresome labor. “I do not know - ”

“We have the best healers in the North. A maester specialized in birthing just for this reason, Sansa -” she gave her a reassuring smile as she looked to the tree before them as they grew closer. “Please do not worry yourself. You’re a sight taller than myself, you’ll do fine.” Though her assurances didn’t do much for her mind, it was not uncommon for women to perish in childbirth - she wouldn’t have been the first nor the last to succumb to this fate. 

Feeling comforted by the familiar tree she placed her hand against it then closed her eyes. This was home, it was if she could feel the seven flowing through her when she was here. The branches covered in crimson leaves some littering the ground, the hot spring in front of it keeping the air mildly warm despite the crisp temperatures.

Taking a breath Sansa sighed, “Do you worship the old or new?" 

Frigga shook her head, "I haven’t worshiped either in some time, do you talk to them here?” she asked in awe of the beauty and size of the tree. It was as old as the Stark name, probably even older than that if Sansa had to guess. It towered over them, it was over even the large walls that surrounded Winterfell. 

“Sometimes, I feel them here. I don’t know if it’s truly the Gods I feel or if it’s just home… I’m going to miss it.” She admitted softly as she looked at the crystal clear waters of the hotspring. Her eyes watered and she took a deep breath, “I knew I’d have to leave eventually, but it didn’t stop me from hoping it might not take me away Perhaps, I’d marry someone here - but I always knew.” it was a foolish dream, childish hope that she’d never have to leave her family. That maybe she’d have her mother near when she birthed her first child, to have the creature comforts she remembered so keenly; so close.

Frigga looked at her, “When I left home, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I remember it, just like it was yesterday. I stumbled over my words, and was sure I’d made a mess of myself in front of Odinn but he just smiled,” there was a shy smile that appeared on the woman’s face, like remembering a good memory. “He was very kind to me, I’m.. truly the only person he is kind to and I imagine you’ll be second on that list." 

"Does it get easier?”

“Not at first, it gets worse. Once you’re away from home, you’ll feel panicked. Like you’re being strangled I suppose, your sense of safety and comfort is behind you. ” The words were far from comforting, but she appreciated her honesty. Sweet lies were not what she needed, and her mother would feed them to her to make herself feel better - that much she knew. “You will not be alone, and you will never be harmed. Asgard will be your new home, and it will take some time to adjust but with time it becomes easier but that’s all it does." 

Honesty. Truth. Cruel. It felt like all too often those things were rolled into one, and she preferred it. Sansa had been sheltered, if it weren’t for the maids or Arya sneaking her bits and pieces of information here or there she’d be completely blind sighted by what was to come. Married life came with duties; ones her Septa knew naught about but thought imprudent she shared whatever knowledge she felt necessary. Far too much of it sounded awful, terrifying even. She was loath to think of what her future held if it was truly as tedious as she made it sound.

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Thor was beside himself, he hadn’t wanted to leave her just yet but he could feel her nerves rolling off her in tidal waves. He couldn’t blame her, even he had his own anxieties over their impending marriage. Seeing her for the first time when they’d rode into the square he had been floored, taller than he’d expected, beautiful. Her auburn hair glimmering near crimson in the sunlight. He had done the right thing in waiting to take a wife, she’d please him just fine. When he’d told his father he was ready to take a bride, he was a little worried who his father would choose - there were a number of options weighing down his father’s desk in his solar, but only one would become his one and only. He’d known that the decision wouldn’t be in his hands, as the eldest son he had his own duties to his family. Though, he supposed in a way they were similar to that of Lady Sansa. 

Doing a duty to your family, for the good of the North, for the good of alliances.

"So,” he heard his brother’s voice drawl from beside him, his chair creaking as he turned his attention towards him, and he just knew he wouldn’t have left well enough alone, “she seems just proper." 

Thor rolled his eyes as he looked towards Loki, he was always in his surly moods - souring everyone about him when things didn’t go his way or something didn’t act to fit his mold. "She was nervous, as was I. You seem to forget.” He watched as his father talked with his soon to be Good Father - he didn’t really know how he was going to handle talking to him alone. The time would come, he knew. Thor was not unaccustomed to talking with women, he was used to that much, however, he was not used to talking to their father’s. Gods forbid. He’d have been dead a decade and some years ago if that were the case. 

“But, of course. It’s a pity really, what of the Tyrell girl? Father said they sent in an offer as well,” Loki said to him as he sipped from the ale that was poured in his cup. 

Thor shook his head, the Tyrells were a wealth of many things that just weren’t necessary in the North. They had numbers for soldiers, for certain, a hundred thousand swords would aid them well if they became necessary. The North was in no need for it - but it took his father all of two days to brush off the offer. He was sure Lady Margaery was lovely, but at this moment he couldn’t imagine anyone was as beautiful as Sansa Stark. 

Taking a deep breath as he took his time to soak in the solar, it was beautifully crafted, intricate direwolf carvings into the mantle of the fireplace. He hadn’t seen anything like this in Asgard, he suspected it was as old as the stories of old - but he couldn’t be sure. 

“It held no benefit for anyone, it was simply a marriage. Nothing gained nor lost. This marriage, it holds promise.” He didn’t have to explain as much to Loki – he’d studied the law and rewritten it time and time again so that someday he could be a worthy advisor when Thor took over Asgard to become Lord of House Mjölnir. Even so, Sansa wasn’t the only offer that had come across the redwood desk. Karstark, Mormont, Frey, Lannister - many names but as a Vassal to House Stark it was without question who was going to be chosen. It was an honor to marry to their liege Lord’s family. 

There was another perk, the fact that her father had waited so long to marry her - many called him a fool. Though, he understood. When these Lords married their daughters off the moment they bled he felt sick, even the Frey girl who had been offered was not even five and ten. It was repulsive. The last thing he wanted was some child bride, the thought disturbed him in a way he couldn’t begin to explain.

“We’re both from the North, and it strengthens the bonds between our houses.” It would also cure his loneliness that seemed to persist - or so he hoped anyway. He’d been alone for quite sometime now, his bed cold, his heart feeling colder. Winter in the North wasn’t a gentle breeze, it came with thundering clouds and so much snow people would be locked in their houses till midday. Ropes tied house to house, or house to barn so that they might feed their animals before the day was through. Creeks would rice with the excess water melted by the sun - should they be so lucky to have any - there was no time to dally; if they did not marry now they would not marry until the weather was agreeable which could be more than a year.

“Boring.” Loki huffed, obviously displeased with his answer - he knew they both had a knack for theatrics but his brother really did push it a little far sometimes. “Do you think they’d let me marry her then? Since you’ve done your duty, perhaps I won’t have to try so hard." 

"You’re incorrigible, brother. To think it’s me everyone seemed to worry about, and you’re only worried about how far away your bride is.” Thor chuckled a little into his cup before sitting back then looking towards his own father. 

Eddard drank from his own cup then sighed, “I suppose we should talk business then. I’ve gotten a raven from the wall, the weather is changing fast, so it’d be best if we have the wedding quickly. I think the day after tomorrow is sufficient, how many days ride back to Asgard is it?" 

Thor cleared his throat, "About five days. Though that was with frequent stops and less riding during the day.” He looked to his father with a teasing expression who rolled his eyes a little. “If we start at daybreak and only set camp when the sun goes down we could be back in three.”

“I’m not as young as I used to be, boy.” Odinn chuckled as he looked at his son, “If I fall behind then so be it. You’ll bring your wife to Asgard quickly, it won’t do for her to be traveling for long periods of time. ”

Eddard nodded a little as he looked between them, “Will she have her own carriage?” “Of course, and we’ll have a horse led behind in case she would like to ride as well. I sent a raven ahead to have things prepared. I would like for her to be as comfortable as possible.” Thor told him seriously, “it’s not a difficult journey in optimum conditions but should it begin to snow she will be well taken care of; I assure you." 

He could see the tense muscles in her father relax upon his statement, he couldn’t imagine having these talks. How terrifying to let your child into the hands of another, knowing that their fate could end in tragedy if you didn’t choose the right partner for them. "As I’m sure you understand, Lord Thor, if anything untoward were to happen to her…” he trailed off.

“I would do anything in my power to see that that never happens, Lord Stark. "Thor assured him seriously, "I will take our vows and life together very seriously. She will never want for anything.”

The doors to the solar opened and Robb walked in with Jon hot on his heels, the two were inseparable as far as Thor knew. Half brothers but might as well have been true with how they squabbled. Where Robb went, so did Jon - on the battlefield he’d seen them for what they were; warriors. Despite their young age, they seemed to know tactician better than most men older than himself. There was no sign of the iron born boy he’d seen a few times before, and for that he was thankful. He had a distaste for them, it was probably wise he was kept out of his sight. 

“Lord Thor, ” Robb greeted him jovially. 

“Lord Robb,” a quirk of his lips in response. He hadn’t seen the younger man since he’d last helped - the previous spring.

“It seems you’re going to take my sister away then,” he said as he sat across from him, filling his cup with some of the sweet beverages placed in the middle. “You’ll bring her back for my wedding in a few months time won’t you?" 

The question hung heavy, there were a few things that depended on his answer. If she were carrying he would have to make sure it was safe for her to travel, and then it all depended upon the weather.

Thor nodded, "If her health permits and the weather is not too severe. I don’t see why that would be an issue,” he said to him and took a healthy drink from his cup; he hated the heavy silence that hung there. 

Knowing what was to come for him, what was to come for Winterfell’s Daughter, he almost felt bad but he could not wait to have her as his own. He swore he saw Robb’s eyes darken in distaste, surely these men were not so obtuse that they wouldn’t think him capable of waiting to put a babe on her? She was lovely. More than, but thinking of her as more before he wed her would be a folly on his part. 

“Of course,” Robb seemed a bit put under by the thought of his sister not attending his own wedding but seemed to accept it. “Have you had any more skirmishes?” Robb queried, there had been a large number of them the year prior, fights over food - uprising over one thing or another - stolen land, stolen livestock, a never ending cycle. It was the only reason his decision to take a bride had taken so long. He’d been quite ready to take a wife for two years now, but seeing Lady Sansa made his waiting all the more worth it. He’d heard nothing but kind things about her from those who had met her or been at the receiving end of her kindness.

Sighing, “a few but not nearly as many as the year prior. We’ve put a halt to the majority of them, and as they crop up we tear them down. It’s a process,” he admitted as he looked at the younger boy. Robb Stark was to be feared amongst those on the battlefield, the only other man he’d seen with such tactician is Tywin Lannister. He’d be a fitting husband for Myrcella Baratheon - perhaps they would make a brood of warriors to rival that of the mountain that walked. 

“We’ve had a few deserters from the wall, seems the lot of them have gone mad up there.” Eddard spoke solemnly, “A few Skirmishes of our own in Wintertown but nothing we can’t manage on our own. We’re preparing for the long winter, and the soils of Asgard will surely help when it comes to farming and our glass gardens.”

Thor looked to Eddard then nodded as he listened, “The carts of soil are on their way as we speak, I believe the amount we agreed on ended up being twelve carts full of soil. They’re quite deep, I saw to that myself. They should be here by the time we’ve returned to Asgard." 

Magic of the others ran deep through Asgard, the Mjölnir house was once said to be a family of sorcerers. Though, there was no way to prove these things even if they thought they were real; the lands were indeed something magical. The constant turnover of fresh produce and grain in the winter was nothing to sniff their noses at; food was so scarce - they needed every bit they could get their hands on.

This union would bring more than two houses closer, the peace he sought in the battlefield was no longer there. He struggled to gain a grip on his life, he hoped she could provide him with that peace. Loneliness wasn’t uncommon for Thor, even if he could have any woman with Asgard to warm his bed it no longer entranced him as it once had. 

He wanted more, he wanted a family.


	3. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter makes you smile! The final chapter will be posted on Halloween! Maybe sooner if I get too antsy.

The following morning Sansa could barely convince herself to get out of bed, in less than a day she'd be a woman wed. She'd some day be Lady Mjölnir and the very thought shook her to her very core. There wasn't much she knew about Asgard, even if she'd taken lessons on the magical village out of pure curiosity. Helping keep a city running was something she'd been raised for, and even if she knew she wouldn't be Lady Stark - this had a similar ring to it didn't it? The same duties, the same responsibilities, House Mjölnir was a very important house to the north - keeping food in their bellies and hope in their hearts. 

Her father had been all too eager to fill her mind to the brim with knowledge of their vassals, perhaps he knew even then that she might become a wife to such a noble house. House Mjölnir was nearly just as old as House Stark, they had joined in marriage a few times over the course of a thousand or so years - they'd always been loyal. 

Pulling her robes closer to her body she shook off the chill that worked its way under her skin, even the pipes laid within the walls of Winterfell couldn't ward off the chill completely. With Winter well on its way, it would only get worse. Piecing together her outfit, she thought about what might please her husband to be; he didn't have many bad rumors about him. Though, there were the ones of his tendency to take lovers; but that had been expected. A man nearing his thirty-fifth name day was sure to have lain with other women, she couldn't bring herself to be bothered by the notion, it wasn't her place anyway. 

A maid walked into the room after knocking twice. then set about helping her prepare for the day. Her dress was her house colors, grey, white and black - the wool knit undercoat suitable for a walk in the Godswood; keeping her plenty warm. Curious of his reaction to seeing the magnificent tree, the only thing in the North that was older than her own family name. The magic of the others was powerful and it laid within her home and that of Asgard - of that there was no disputing. 

"Your Lady Mother told me that you're to be sitting next to Lord Thor this morning for breakfast," the maid informed her as she bustled around the room. Sansa was sure her stomach wouldn't allow her to consume one bite, what would she even say to him? 

Perhaps nothing. 

Perhaps she'd make a fool of herself once again, even though Arya had told her she thought she did just fine - though, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Arya often found herself saying or doing things that a lady shouldn't. Though, her father often told her that Arya was more Lord than Lady - and he seemed okay with it. She wondered when the time came how she'd react to having to be married and have a family of her own. Sansa often secretly hoped that she'd marry a man of her choosing - it would be unfair for her to be tied down to the position of head of household when she hated it.

Not letting her thoughts get the best of her she nodded, doing as she was told was nothing new. She'd had silly ideals when she was younger, the thought of marrying a prince but the notion was dashed when she was shown his true behavior. She never wanted a prince again, it made the South seem like a dreary place if she'd of had to be his wife. Thankfully, Lady was spared by King Robert - she didn't know if she could handle it if she'd lost her, the one thing that was truly hers. Her hair was tended to in the Northern fashion, let down and braided at the halfway point in a design only a true Northerner would know. Boots lace tight before she walked from her room with her hands folded in front of her. 

By the time she reached the great hall her siblings were already seated in their usual seats. Her father motioned to her to come to the head table and take a seat at his side. This was likely to ensure nothing debauched was discussed between the two betrothed. Nothing unusual, she'd seen this done a hundred times if not more by other noble northerners. When Dacey Mormont married she'd sat next to her mother, eyeing her and Lord Umber keenly to ensure propriety. When Lord Thor entered a room it was like everyone's attention was drawn to him, though it wasn't difficult to understand why. He was large, probably well over six feet tall - and wide enough to dwarf Sansa when she stood near him. 

Being the tallest girl in her family, she'd been concerned she'd marry a man who felt emasculated by her - simply due to her height. Arya was bound to be small, she had already seemingly stopped growing sometime ago. There wasn't much left she could besides wear stilts at this point; she'd threatened to do so, but their mother forbade it. His hair was only half pinned back, it looked like something she'd seen her father do before - he wore a cloak and warm leathers as he took his seat next to her. Still, he dwarfed her. His large frame near her slight one, paired with his height - she wasn't sure how she didn't notice it before.

"Good morning, Lady Sansa, Lord Stark," he greeted them jubilee, seemingly in bright spirits. Sansa couldn't imagine being so happy in the mornings, she rather loathed them; she wondered if he was eager for the days to begin. He must have much to look forward to, or perhaps it was just nerves.

Eddard gave a small smile then nodded, "Did you find your rooms to your liking?" he queried and Sansa didn't dare interrupt their conversation now. 

"Yes, it's quite night. The fire was a nice touch, it seems we've gotten a bit of snowfall overnight." he sighed, looking mildly perplexed by the news. She knew why, if there was snow their wedding could be in a white out. During the beginnings of winter there were a few squalls that would happen before a big blizzard - but she hadn't seen one before, she'd only heard stories. 

"That must be why I almost had a fright when I stepped out of bed this morning," Sansa noted out loud and Thor chuckled nodding a bit. 

"The floors were quite cold, made me all the more eager to get down here for the hot cider." he hummed, the non-alcoholic beverage was often served with breakfast but Sansa often preferred hot teas, though she couldn't help but wonder if the served the beverage in Asgard - her soon to be new home. 

Thor cleared his throat after taking a drink, "Lady Sansa, I was wondering, with your father's permission of course, if you might show me the Godswood?" his eyes bright in excitement. He looked like a child on Sevenmas, she'd never seen a man his age with such excitement in their expression.

"Please, Brother. Have some propriety." Loki drawled teasingly as he sat next to him shaking his head. 

Sansa glanced to her father who sighed, "Only with a Chaperone, you know the rules, Lord Thor." 

"I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind walking with us, she said the Godswood was delightful. I have a feeling she may be getting in touch with her own beliefs once again," he admitted with a nod as their breakfast was served. 

Sansa gave him a small smile, "I'd love to show you the Godswood, Lord Thor. As long as your Lady Mother doesn't mind joining us again," she was more nervous than she let on but her lessons on being a Lady were coming in more than handy. 

"Sansa," it was Arya, "Lady wants out should I let her run with Nymeria - she's worked up something awful."

Sansa sighed a bit, "Sure, they might want to hunt - they'll probably be back before nightfall." Sansa hoped she wanted her to be with her the following day when she walked through the Godswood to become a wife. 

"Lady?" Lord Thor queried. 

Sansa gave a small bob of her head, "Yes, she's my Direwolf. I've raised her from a pup, we all have one."

Loki looked incensed at her words, "Interesting, I've never seen one aren't they normally north of the wall, Lady Sansa?"

"Apparently so, but my father and brother's found them lying with their deceased mother. Six pups, quite lucky if I say so myself, Lord Loki." At ease, she felt comfortable talking about this because she knew quite a bit about it - or at least what her Septa and Maester were willing to share. The rest were stories her Father or brother had told her; though she was more likely to believe her father over Robb or Jon any day. 

"Oh, there is Grey Wind, Robb's wolf. He's pretty much full grown now, Mother is going to have a fit once she knows he's been in the hall." She tittered knowingly as the large wolf came around and laid at the side of the table by Robb. Thor and Loki both had their eyes trained on the wolf - it was massive, near half the size of a horse that was apparently not even full grown.

Loki leaned forward to meet Sansa's eyes, "And you're bringing your Lady with you then?" He asked her curiously, wondering if perhaps if the she wolf bred if he could have one of the pups. 

"Oh.. we'll I'd hoped to, yes." Panic filled her expression as she blinked for a moment.  
Thor nodded, "But of course you would, I wouldn't dream of separating you from her. What does she eat, Lady Sansa? I must prepare for her arrival as well as yours."

"She hunts her own food, I only feed her when she asks. I just know, so you won't have to worry about her too often. I think.. once a week?" Sansa looks to her father who nods in agreement at the amount.

"They're quite self sufficient, she hunts about three or four times a day or she'll eat a large meal in the morning." Eddard told him as he set his goblet down, "They're amazing creatures."

Sansa couldn't have agreed with her father more, she saw how intelligent the creatures were. Each of them honing a different skill or trained ability. Lady was just so, she would mind her manners and follow dutifully next to Sansa wherever she went. There was nothing, though, that could keep her from the thrills of a hunt.  
"Do you have plans to breed her, perhaps?" Loki asked her and she furrowed her brow.

"Well, I've never thought about it… truly. " She admitted then sighed, "If it were to happen then she would receive the best care for her and her pups, but I wouldn't give them to just anyone. Direwolves are quite rare and loyal to those who are in charge of them."

"As I expected, it's just - "

"He's been wanting a companion of his own , my brother." Thor smiled a bit, dazzling Sansa a bit - how could he be so charming without trying. "Father wouldn't allow him one when he was young."

Sansa smiled, "If she were to birth pups then I'd be delighted for you to have one, Lord Loki."

He looked all too thrilled at the news and did nothing to hide it, she knew pure excitement when she saw it. She finished her breakfast in silence much to her mother's chagrin, though it seemed that Lord Thor had stories in abundance to tell her. She listened diligently and offered a smile or laugh when appropriate - she found she liked him quite a lot. Perhaps.. perhaps this would be so terrible. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Thor was delighted by his soon to be wife, she had won over the impossible to win, heart of his brother - he knew the people of Asgard would adore her. Why wouldn't they? She was kind, and he could tell once she warmed up to him she would have the wit to match that of his mother's. Once they'd finished their breakfast he offered Lady Sansa his hand so that they might continue on towards the Godswood - he was eager to see it. He'd been dreaming of what it could look like for quite some time, his mother following behind them acting as if she were minding her own business, it was just to protect the status of her virtue. He would never deign to put her in a position that might harm her or his own reputation. 

"The Godswood is fairly new compared to the weirwood itself, probably within the last three thousand years. The tree though, has been here for over ten thousand years - probably longer." and seeing it before his eyes now he could see why she wished to marry before it, the majesty alone had him in awe. It was the most enormous tree he'd ever laid his eyes on. The weirwood tree in Harrenhaal the only one that could compare to it - though the grounds on which it laid were barren of people and believed in the old gods.

He looked at her, soaking in her excitement. Seeing her so comfortable with her arm tucked in his own - he knew he 'd made the right choice. Thor wasn't new to women, he'd been bedding them since he was confident enough to do so - much to his mother's chagrin. Though, none of them brought the feelings in him that she seemed to. For the first time in years he felt truly alive, and like he was making the right choice - and not just for Asgard or the North but for himself. 

"It's lovely, Lady Sansa. The tree favors you," he said lightly. 

Her eyes darted to him questioningly but she didn't say a word, he cleared his throat "I mean to say," he stumbled over his words and he swore he saw a quirk of a smile, "that if it weren't for yourself - this tree would be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on." his eyes never once left hers. He was quite pleased with himself when the peaks of her cheeks flushed and her eyes tore away from his own. There was no convincing him that it was due to the cold - his eyes lingered on her a moment longer before his thoughts strayed to how he could make them flush in the privacy of their own bed chambers the following night when she became his wife in truth.

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

Arya knew it'd be some time before she was able to see her sister again, or play a suitable prank on her. So -- much thinking the night before she had a plan, she could only put sheep dung in her mattress so many times; she never fell for it anymore. It would only be a short while before she could put her plan into motion - though the sound of footsteps startled her. "Lord Loki," she greeted with mild alarm, she'd heard of his great mischief which only managed to peak her interest in him. 

"What brings you the ramparts?" she queried, her eyes peering out over the top to see if they were on their way back yet.

"Same as you, I expect, Lady Arya," her face fell in a frown at the title, she hated being called Lady Arya - the title felt bitter in her mouth, more tart than Sansa's favored lemon cakes. The last thing she wanted was to be a lady of a keep - she wanted to fight, like her brothers and father. To travel across the narrow sea, and see first hand what the world had to offer in experiences.

"You're here to prank your brother then?" she speculated and his eyes lit up in delight, it wasn't likely he'd heard of what kind of hellion she was - though she suspected only her mother saw her as such When he nodded his head in affirmative she grinned. "Good, the snow up here will pile up by the time they get back - we'll push it on them as they walk under the arch - they'll never suspect a thing. Does that sound amiable to you, Lord Loki?"

He chuckled, child-like excitement filling his features. Arya knew with adulthood came the task of losing what childishness you'd had before - so part of her was taking happiness in the fact that he too was rebelling much the same as she was. "Yes, yes it does, Lady Arya." he jerked his head looking off in the direction she was, his arms clasped behind his back, "How long do you think they'll be?" 

The girl hummed and then eyed their tracks, "Another ten minutes or so - it gets really cold in the Godswood. The wind really whips through there, if they're not too close to the springs anyway, maybe fifteen minutes. " she informed, knowing precisely how long Sansa normally spent in the Godswood - and even though they were all made of the North it didn't stop them from getting cold just like the rest. 

The snow fall began to worsen, and she pulled her cloak closer around her shoulders - feeling quite happy with herself for deciding to wear trousers instead of the dress her mother had almost demanded she wear. They stood in silence, and for that she was thankful. Small talk was for filling silences, and it didn't need to be filled - they needed to be prepared; they likely only had one shot at this plan and if they failed… it'd be quite disappointing. 

The tell tale crunch of snow and soft laughter echoed up into the ramparts and Loki glanced at Arya. They bother offered each other a sinister smile - any chance to prank their siblings was a good one and it'd been some time since Arya had been able to do so. The perk of getting her soon to be good brother in one go just made it even better, she realized then she'd have to travel to Asgard within the next year - she never thought she'd ever have to worry about missing her sister.

"On three," he whispered, giving a short nod Arya looked over the edge. "One, two….three - " they shoved the piled snow over the edge and they heard it make a thunk and - 

"OH!" 

That was decidedly not Sansa or Thor making that noise, "Oh dear," Loki spoke softly as he paled, "We should run." he shoved her a little in the opposite direction of where he knew they would come in - down the stairs and here stood his brother. 

"Lady Arya.. Brother," he had an amused look on his face but Arya looked less than pleased; the sound of crunching snow reached the guilty looking duo's ears as his mother appeared before them. At least she didn't look angry, but they both knew they'd likely never hear the end of it.


	4. finale

Night had set upon Winterfell like a pack of wolves on a deer, she had seen candles carried out to the weirwood when she'd glanced outside her window, part of her had never been so glad for a tower room. It had the best views of everything in Winterfell. It led her to wonder what her rooms in Asgard would look like, as she gazed out the window once more she caught a glimpse of people dressed in their best robes. The town had been giddy with excitement that Winter's Daughter was finally getting married; some spoke of good omens but she didn't know if she believed in any of it. Her hair was braided lightly and left down as per usual, due to the cold weather it just wasn't possible for her to have her hair up for the period of time they were out in the Godswood. 

Sansa's wedding gown had intricate designs, the marks of her family - Tully scales, and Direwolves intertwined with orange an red leaves over her skirt. Then to honor her new family, the intricately designed hammer on her left sleeve with lightening cast down her shoulder. Sansa had spent quite a bit of time drawing the design with graphite and chalk. Twisting her handkerchief in her hands she sighed looking up as her mother entered the room. 

"You look beautiful, Sansa.." she murmured softly, in awe of the woman before her. Lady Stark opened the trunk at the base of her bed then pulled out the grey and white maiden cloak. Draping it over her shoulders pulling her hair so it fell over it instead of being tucked under the furs.

"I am scared," admitting it out loud was easier than she thought it might be. 

Catelyn nodded in understanding, "I was too, every woman is scared on her wedding day. There are many firsts to be had after this, but you'll do fine…" she told her gently then sighed a bit "Your father is outside the door… are you ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" 

The door opened as her answer, no choice - never was one and all she wanted to d was curl up into a ball. Knowing she'd have to bare herself to her husband on this night did nothing for her nerves. Tradition. Even if Thor was kind, gentle and honorable she wanted to spit on tradition that forced her to be treated this way. Eddard gasped at the sight before him. 

"Gods, you look like the maiden herself, Sansa. You're her vision," a small smile curving his lips as he approached her and stroked her cheek. "Come, we mustn't keep them waiting." 

The walk to and through the Godswood was daunting. Only those who were closest to the family were able to see them be married, so as they made their way people within Winterfell stood throwing flower petals as she walked; congratulating her quietly as not to upset the old Gods. The snow wasn't particularly deep but she felt as if her feet trudged through the snow like it were a foot high, but it didn't even go over top of her boots. As they entered the Godswood the wind howled past her, sending a chill down her spine - it was happening, and to honor her family; to keep the North intact - she must do as was expected of her. 

Sansa knew she could do much worse.

Lord Thor was handsome, he was kind and looked on her fondly. Very well could she have been married off to a make five times her age, though something told her that her father wouldn't have allowed such a thing to happen. As they approached the weirwood, she took note of the hundred of candles lighting her path, the glow was akin to something ethereal - seeing those closest to her standing to the left while he and his stood the right… She'd been to many weddings, and they were similar to this but the Faith of the Seven demanded more ornate officials.

No representative was needed for the old Gods, just the father of the groom. Lord Mjölnir stood at the head of the tree wearing his best of the best. Which didn't surprise her considering his eldest son was finally getting married - there is no doubt this was a joyous occasion for Asgard and House Mjölnir.

"Who comes before the old gods this night?" what little quiet chatter that had been whispering in the winds halted, and Sansa swore she could feel the Gods with them at this moment. Her heart racing in her chest, and she felt dense fur beneath her fingers and a whine gained her attention. Looking down she saw Lady standing at her side -ever her protector - she'd never go anywhere without her. 

Thor stood by the tree, his mother, and brother stood behind him. His hair was down, only pinned back half way to keep it out of his eyes. His house colors standing out against the rest of him, much brighter than her own. The burgundy and silver looked ethereal in the glow from the candles - A part of her wondered how she would compare; surely she was quite dull compared to the other women of House Mjölnir.

"Sansa, of House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

Thor stepped forward his cloak dragging in the snow beneath his feet. Feeling as if she couldn't breathe, like the air had been stolen from her lungs as she'd inhaled it. It felt like the moment went on forever before he finally spoke, and his tenor vibrated through her.

"Thor, of House Mjölnir, trueborn and heir to Asgard. Who gives her?" his eyes never once left hers, it was almost a comfort if it didn't send her heart into a fit every time his hauntingly blue eyes stared into her own. 

"Eddard, of house Stark. Her father, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell."

Too fast, far too fast - doing her best to control her breathing she kept her eyes on Thor's hoping that, perhaps, she wouldn't faint on the spot. Wouldn't that be a story for the future? 

Arya would never let her live it down, so she did her due diligence to remember to breathe, last thing she needed was something else for her to tease her about.

"Lady Sansa," Her eyes jerked to Lord Mjölnir - she knew he could see her apprehension the same one that lingered in the eyes of every bride who knew what their future held - the ceremony was fast and she knew once he spoke those words she'd be expected to answer. "Do you take this man?" 

Without hesitation; for her house, for her family, for her honor she knew what she must do.

"I take this man." she speaks clearly for everyone to hear and her hand is placed in Thor's. Her maiden cloak is removed by her father and the chill of the night air sends a chill up her spine but it doesn't last long as House Mjölnir cloak is placed over her shoulders - heavier than her own - placing her in his protection from this day, until his last day and forever more. 

The ceremony ended. The old gods didn't require all that the seven seemed to, which she'd learned when she'd almost been betrothed to Prince Joffrey. Her mind went back into over drive as Thor looped her arm through his, how could she bear to tell him her mind was barely present throughout the entire ceremony. 

Thoughts flitting from one thing to the next, the consummation weighing heavily on her mind so much so that she felt nauseous just thinking about what they'd have to do - and how she'd been told it could be quite painful. When they walked into the great hall she was sat next to her husband; a part of her was worried that she'd missed the entire walk back to the great hall - she hoped she hadn't made a fool of herself along the way. 

"Sansa?" Thor's voice was gentle from beside her. "Are you alright?"

A small smile appeared on her face, practiced like her Septa had taught her. For a moment she almost resented her, for lying and telling her that it was her duty and with that knowledge this should all come easily. If she meant came easily by meaning her lunch would be making a reappearance then perhaps she was right, but she didn't think she knew anything about a married woman's duties beyond what the Seven dictated - with that she decided, she wouldn't listen to naught much else she had to offer her in the way of advice. 

"Just… a little overwhelmed is all," she expressed honestly, "so much is happening, so quickly." Thor's eyes softened in understanding, 

"It is quite overwhelming, but things went smoothly - you did well," he smiled at her reassuringly while he grasped her hand in his. He seemed so confident in this, like he wasn't terrified - but she knew that he wouldn't be. Men often laid with women well before they were married, another fact that bothered Sansa to no end. Knowing that men were able to do as they pleased but women were expected to act chaste; a man having bastards wasn't near as bad as a woman having then - the double standard wasn't unknown to her. 

That fear rose in her as she looked at his hand on hers, if he were eager for the night to be done she didn't know if she could accept him. Sipping the cider before her, hoping to settle her stomach - anything to take her mind off what was to come. Him being ready for a wife meant he was ready for children. The only way for those to come about was for her to lay with him, and often. The thought didn't seem too pleasant no matter how much men seemed to enjoy it - she'd never heard a pleasant story when it came to the marriage bed. Her mother refused to talk about it, told her that it would be a discussion for her and her husband; it wasn't proper for her to know more.  
Sansa wanted children, that much was a given; but she was petrified. So many things riding on her having an heir for her husband, what if she failed? While her mother produced three sons, she also had two daughters… there was no telling what would be produced between them. She squeezed his hand and offered him a small smile, unsure of what to say to him but wanting him to know she appreciated his comforting words. 

The party was large, between the Mjölnir and Stark men there were plenty of drinks sloshing about, and songs being sung. Her brother approached the table, "I'd like to dance with my sister, good brother." Robb smirked at him and he raised his cup smiling a little. Sansa moved out of her chair and took her brother's out stretched hand. 

"You look like you're on the way to the slaughter house, sister, what ails you?" Robb asked concerned as he walked with her to the open floor where they could dance.

Giving him a look she huffed, "You know what ails me, Robb. I'm sure everyone does, no need to play stupid." He snickered, "You've got nothing to worry about," he spun her then continued the traditional northern dance - one of her favorites - one that made her feel like a princess. "He won't hurt you, he - "

"No, we're not talking about it. It's all I've been able to think about and if I think about it anymore I'll lose my lunch all over you." Sansa rejected the very notion, she couldn't stand this anxiety that had swept her up. 

A fear of the unknown, how could they keep something like this from the person it's happening to? She saw Robb sigh a little, then when the dance ended he pressed a kiss to her forehead before returning her to her husband. She wasn't scared of Thor, she felt quite safe with him - but it lingered; and she didn't know what to do. The night passed far too quickly for her tastes. Thor had stopped drinking some time ago and was now drinking water and making light conversation with her, and she replied in kind; finding she liked talking to him about anything other than what plagued her mind. 

The glass gardens, lemon cakes, lady and her diet. She'd even talked to him about the few times she'd played pranks on her sister, how sometimes they'd manage to play these games for weeks before their mother would catch wind of it. When her mother came to her side and whispered, "It's' time," with Lady Mjölnir on her heels she paled. Her body seized up while she stood, unable to meet the eyes of her husband as he watched her leave with his mother and her own. 

It wasn't a secret to her that he watched her often, she'd felt his eyes on her, burning holes in her as if she'd disappear. They arrived to her rooms, it was silent - no one said a word for there would be nothing that could comfort her - not tonight, likely not any night after if her friend Jeyne's experience was anything to go on. She was dressed in a white shift with lace trimmings and as she sat on the edge of the bed she met her mother's eyes. 

"You will be just fine, just do as he says" she told her gently then kissed her forehead much like her own brother had and left the room. Lady Mjölnir who gave her a mischievous look - one that matched her son's from the day they'd arrived before leaving herself - not offering any words of wisdom or comfort. 

Though she suspected she didn't have any, but that look meant something she just didn't quite know what it was. It wasn't even ten minutes before the door opened and Thor's large frame appear in the doorway, her hands clutched the furs she was perched on. 

He shut the door gently behind him, then removed his cloak before speaking, "I don't want you to be afraid." the way he looked at her wasn't predatory, it held a measure of warmth but excitement flickered beneath his gaze. Sansa counted herself fortunate, her good friend Jeyne had sad her husband had put himself between her thighs without care - less than a minute she was his wife in truth. 

"I.. I do not think I am afraid so much as… nervous," Sansa admitted demurely, the unknown was truly the only thing that plagued her. The wish to know what it was that would go on, to know why people seemed to buzz about it so quietly with impish grins on their faces. An inside joke she was old enough to be apart of now but still so ignorant about, her curiosity was out beating her fear by length and measure. 

He smiled a little as he walked towards her, and for someone not afraid she felt every muscle in her body stiffen. Thor her grabbed her hands in his own - pulling her to her feet before lifting her gaze to his. "I'm going to take my time," he murmured affectionately, his eyes dropping over her neck and down her chest. Moving his hand to stroke her cheek, "by the end of the night you won't know what you were so nervous for," that impish grin that matched that of his brother and mother - she knew now where they'd gotten it from. 

Something told her that he knew exactly what he was doing, and that he wasn't lying to her. Ever so gently, Thor brought his mouth to hers, sealing their lips together in her first kiss. The tender affection of his hands on her cheeks, holding her where he wanted her. Sansa found she didn't have it in her to pull away or the desire to - it was odd, but the act alone sent heat throughout her body like she'd never experienced before. Perhaps when she would wake from a dream, ones she'd never admit to having for as long as she lived. The fear that had resided in her chest slowly began to dissipate - being replaced with something else, something warmer and tingly. 

When his tongue pressed against the seam of her lips she wasn't quite sure what to do, "Let me lead you… I'll show you," he whispered roughly, and her mouth opened for his a heat burning it's way down her body settling between her thighs. 

"You're a natural," he grunted, his mouth pressing to the skin of her jaw, neck and shoulder. His hands grabbed hers placing them to the wide expanse of his chest, "Help me undress?" he queried, and she could feel every inch of her skin burn up in a flush - he looked beyond pleased by this. 

Deftly untying the knot at the top of his tunic she bit her bottom lip between her teeth. Thor's mouth never left her skin as she attempted to undress him, he untucked his shirt from his trousers then pulled it over his head. He brings her chilled hands to his chest, letting her feel his skin as his lips capture hers again, this time more passionate - heated. Sansa gasps against his lips as she stands closer to him, his hands move from overtop hers then runs them over her sides then cups her backside. 

He squeezes the supple flesh and grunts as he presses his front against her, "I must taste you," his voice is deeper than it was before and she could feel the length of him against her stomach. Sansa gasped as the cool air of the room hit her skin when he pulls her shift over her head without warning, her hands immediately going to cover parts of her body she was certain no one was meant to see. 

Gripping her hands in his he kissed her palms , "Please, you're beautiful." His hands tenderly moved over her breasts, his thumb brushing over the peaked nipples - his eyes peering down into hers as they lit up in a way he'd never seen before. He led her back towards the bed, carefully picking her up by the waist and depositing her back on the bed.

"Taste?" her eyes flooding with confusion as she sits up on her elbows to look at him closing her thighs, but when he looked at her as he was now - she wondered what it was he saw. 

Again with the mischievous smile but hidden behind it was a tender excitement, like when you show someone something you enjoy for the first time; Sansa hadn't a clue. He looks like that of a God, the warrior in person the way his body was built; she wonders now if she is the luckiest woman in all of Westeros. 

He hummed and nodded. "Yes," his large hands moving to part her thighs, his gaze never leaving her's. A yelp escaped her as embarrassment flooded her veins as he looked at her most intimate parts - no, this couldn't be right? 

"I will taste you, sup from between your thighs."

"Thats not…"

"It is… haven't you ever heard of the Lords Kiss?" and with that he dove in, his mouth leaving open kisses over the flesh of her inner thighs leaving her breathless as if he'd stolen the air right out of her lungs. 

Suddenly the room wasn't so cold, and she understood just why the fire hadn't been tended to. He sought out her heat, tongue flicking over the damp folds - Sansa jerked at the foreign sensation then laid back unable to watch the debauched scene that was happening right in front of her. When he parted her folds she felt heat then pleasure, a cry of shock escaped her she twisted to attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation restrained her hips to the furs beneath them only deciding now that she deserved to not be kept so in the dark.

"Thor," she gasped, "This, oh gods," she trembled - this couldn't be right, not one person had prepared her for this immense pleasure, it felt like she'd stepped off the edge of a tall step and her stomach flipped - but it didn't stop, it kept happening, over and over again till her breath was coming in pants. 

The sounds from his mouth against the her cunt were lewd and loud enough that he knew he was doing something right. Her eyes clenched tight, her thighs trembling as his mouth worked over the bundle of nerves, biting; sucking; licking over her. 

The sharp inhale then moan that escaped her only caused him to groan into her, he lifted his mouth from her pressing a finger into her slowly helping her ride out the first of many releases of the night. 

"You've done so well, give me another." his eyes peered up at her as he curled his finger inside of her before adding a second. She was so wet there wasn't any resistance. Stretching her out gently while using his thumb to tease her bundle of nerves. 

"Another? I.. I don't think--"

"I'm obviously not doing my job if you can think...give me another." he sped up the thrust of his fingers into her sopping cunt, leaning down her sucked the swollen bundle into his mouth. His tongue flicking over it as he went causing her to gasp, her hand instinctively coming to his hair as if her body had a mind of it's own. He could feel her arousal coat his mouth as her thigh shook and she came with a strangled moan echoing on the walls of the tower bedroom. Sansa's head was in the clouds, her thoughts muffled as if they were smothered by a pillow.   
She could barely hear them but she could distinctly feel the tingle of his lips against her skin, moving up her thighs and over her abdomen. He shoved his trousers off, his length sagging heavily against her abdomen, she'd not seen it yet but she knew it was large just by the feel of him. "You've done so well, " he whispered against her breast then moved his lips to her mouth as he pushed her thighs over his own. 

Dragging his cock over her folds he wet his length from her then began to slowly press inside of her. He knew, regardless of how gentle he was she would bleed - it'd be enough to sate the curiosities of those who truly cared. Though, that was more of a southern tradition he'd been told .It would mostly be done to satisfy the King. He watched her face, stroking her cheek pressing soft feather light kisses to her lips every few seconds. 

"You're so good for me, sweet girl, you're so perfect." he murmured gently, barely a third of him was pressed inside of her. The grimacing and mewling told him what he needed to know, reading her features wasn't difficult. The fear of hurting her was ever present, standing at the front of her mind. He'd made her feel good, showed her how the marriage bed could be - now the act was to come and he was nervous; more so than he'd anticipated.   
Pressing the head of his cock against her tight entrance her pushed forward, her arousal aiding better than he'd hoped for. Her hands gripped his arms and she gasped her eyes opening to peering to his own, "It will be uncomfortable, I will be as gentle as I can." he murmured. 

Thor was far from small, his length weighed heavy even in his own hand, barely hand to wrap his own fingers around the length of himself. Sliding into her more he slowed, pulling back and only pushing forward again when her face eased of all tension. His fingers teased over her breasts, his lips rained kisses across her flesh; when he bottomed out her walls squeezed him but no one cry of anguish left her. The pain she'd been warned of was only a faint stretch, the burn and fullness that left her thighs trembling around her. 

His thrusts began slow, the drag of him on her walls made her eyes rolled into the back of her head and he needed no further encouragement. He began to move within her earnestly, "fuck," he cursed as he gripped her hips, tilting them upwards as she lifted her thighs forcing him deeper. "you feel so good, so fucking tight."

Sansa was a woman lost to pleasure, her body still thrumming from the climaxes he'd given her before. Now, so deliciously full of his length that she doubted she'd be walking straight for a week. The sound of his voice only drawing something pleasurable out of her - something she'd never thought could exist. Thor's thrusts were hard and fast -- the bed creaked and for a moment she wondered if it break under his fervor. Thor's hands slid down her hips to cradle her thighs, squeezing them in her hands then pushing them against her chest as his mouth claimed her own hungrily. She swallowed his heady groans and growls as his moved inside of her, she could feel the lewd slick dripping from between her legs. 

"Thor," she gasped her fingers digging into his skin and he swallowed the moan that followed. Her fingers tangled in his hair tugging gently when she stiffed and released around him. Her breaths coming in short gasps and whimpers as his movements became sloppy as heat splashed the insides of her walls. His grunts turned to moans as he slowed his thrusts letting her heat milk him for all he was worth.

"My pretty wife," he whispered softly as he captured her lips in a passionate embrace, "finally mine in truth - you will know no other man but me."

Sansa didn't wish to know anyone other than him - all her thoughts were driven to wanting him again. To wanting that blinding pleasure she knew only he could offer her, "I fear...husband… you've created a monster."   
A rumble of laughter escaped him, "I will do what is within my power to sate the monster I've created; she needn't but ask."

With pink cheeks she looked away from him, "how should she ask?"

A smirk curved his lips, and he leaned down to her ear. "I'm sure you can think of something, " he murmured kissing her jaw and neck affectionately. "If you ever have need of me, just ask… I assure you, It would be no chore my part to see you such a state once again." he told her and claimed her mouth with his own.


End file.
